Synchronicity
by Falkenauge
Summary: A collection of vignettes giving unknown or insignificant individuals a moment to shine. Ficlet 9 -Special- We all have doubts about ourselves, sometimes.
1. Embo

_I do not own Star Wars or anything related to it. Star Wars belongs to Disney._

* * *

Embo tipped his head in respect to the grave. He kneeled down, running his fingers through dusty soil, and silently swore a prayer under his ventilated breath. He would avenge them. It was the honorable thing to do.

The Kyuzo turned his head at the sound of movement before disappearing to hide behind the outcropping of rocks as two pairs of sandmen came wandering through the pass. Embo unsheathed his bowcaster and gripped it in his slim hand. The raiders' curiosity was spiked at the small, burning wreckage ahead, and cautiously approached. They prodded at the debris with their pikes before scavenging for useful parts.

Embo waited patiently for the right time to strike, peering around the rocks. He coiled his legs in preparation to jump when he heard a long, cry-like howl. The wail startled the sandmen and echoed through the canyon.

An Anooba pack, a dozen in number, could be seen charging forward and led by their pack leader. The screams of the raiders was cut short and Embo watched in admiration for the animals. He sat there after dusk observing the pack until they had left. He swiftly jumped down to the site and gathered dried twigs. Soon, a fire was crackling in the night.

He was cleaning the brim of his hat when a whimper came from the shadows. An Anooba, smaller than most of the others, limped closer. His front leg was bleeding and broken. Embo encouraged the creature on, speaking gently in his native tongue.

The Anooba's ears drooped in submission and it came along side the bounty hunter. Embo lifted the leg in his hand before pulling out a swath of bacta bandage. He wrapped it taut, ruffling the Anooba's fur. It growled in pleasure and lay down.

Embo laughed, staring up to the sky. Freedom was good. It was Marrok. Embo glanced at the sleeping creature. "Ah, Marrok…"

* * *

_Feel free to let me know what you guys think of these snippets! I'm writing them simply for fun, but feedback is still appreciated. This'll depend on when inspiration hits me, so updates are going to be sporadic._


	2. Kal

_I do not own Star Wars._

* * *

He had woken up to the sounds of screams. If they were his own, the boy didn't know, and didn't care to know. He ran upstairs from the basement, coughing out his parent's names and desperately hoping they would hear. The roof was torn off, walls were shattered, wires stuck out dangerously, and fire crackled.

Small chunks of jagged stone covered the broken wooden floor and pierced the boy's bare feet. He cried out in pain with eyes tear-streaked from the smoke. He ran out through the door before falling flat onto the ground. Metal grazed his arms and mud now clung to his clothes. "Papa! Papa!"

The boy scurried up and stared at the massacre. The city was destroyed, in ruins. Everything gone. Only rubble remained. The boy shook his head in denial. His hair was matted, clothes torn, and he was bleeding. He backed away and stumbled.

He looked down to find a body, still recognizable as his father. The boy stared in fright. "Papa?" he shook his father's shoulder. "Papa! No!" The boy gasped and tugged at the man's shirt. "Get up, papa! Get up!"

No answer came. He dug his face in his father's neck and sobbed, laying there through the night.

The boy, Falin, wiped his eyes clear and noticed the knife, glinting faintly in the rising sun. He picked up the three-sided blade, observing it for a mere moment before putting it in his belt. Falin sniffed and straightened himself up shakily. He had to be brave – for his parent's.

After a year, Falin was already an expert in throwing knives. As the seven-year-old pulled out the knife from the tree, a man clad in armor came through the foliage. Falin instinctively threw the blade, but the man easily bended himself away by mere inches.

The man laughed and took of his helmet, revealing his hardened face. "_Udesii, vod._ Easy…quite a knack you have with sharp objects. Come on with me back to my camp. It looks like you need some beefing up. Trust me."

* * *

Kal Skirata smiled wistfully at the sad memory as his adopted sons argued over the last nut. Things never changed...


	3. Threepio

_Do I own Star Wars? I do not._

* * *

"R2-D2, you must be more careful! I am afraid you'll fry my circuitry if you continue to be _so_ reckless like that!"

C-3PO's eyes glowed dimly in the darkness as he stumbled on, his gold-plated arms clinking against the metal piping, while following the astute little astromech droid with difficultly. Water sloshed under his feet, sparks flying dangerously close toward its surface. C-3PO sighed. Why he of all the other people, had to come along, and thrown down into a garbage chute?

"Because if I didn't, my friend would surely be in the trash compacter," mumbled the protocol droid. He looked on in disgust at the sight of the sewers. Rats scurried about, some glancing curiously at the new creature that towered above them. "Shoo, shoo, you filthy animals! Oh R2, are we almost there yet?"

R2-D2 whistled a negative. C-3PO groaned. "We've been down here for approximately one hour and fifteen minutes. It can't be that much longer!"

Much to the droid's delight, a ray of light appeared overhead. "Ah, ah! We're saved!"

Two Jawas peered at the droids, speaking in hushed tones to themselves before finally lowering down a rickety ladder. The small hooded beings looked C-3PO over. Satisfied, they beckoned more of their friends down and hefted the protocol droid up.

"Oh dear, do be careful!" yelled C-3PO in distress in response to the Jawas' rough handling.

"R2? R2! Oh, where is he!"

C-3PO scanned the area for his companion, but only species of foreign origin lumbered about. While he was distracted, the Jawas were busily making room in their cramped speeder, filled to the brim with spare parts, for their new possession. They ushered C-3PO in.

"Thank you, but I _must_ find my friend. He is a clumsy little thing," he spoke in Jawaese. The two Jawas shook their heads, one of them pulling out his ion blaster and prodding C-3PO.

"Oh dear, I guess I have no choice." He climbed in to the speeder, and with that, it zoomed off and was lost in the black-market crowd.


	4. Monnk

_Star Wars belongs to Disney._

* * *

"Dive, dive, dive!"

The synchronized drop of the twelve scuba troopers echoed off the stark white walls. Water splashed onto the deck and sprayed the commander's face. Hands clasped behind his back, he paced back and forth on the deck, keenly observing as the scuba troopers fought through the underwater simulator.

Commander Monnk shook his head at the lack of their coordination but continued to follow their progress. His chrono timer ticked off the seconds. _Click… click… click… click…_ The first trooper burst out of the pool, his air tank tube disconnected and hanging to the side.

"Trooper!" Monnk yelled. "_Why_ are you not down there with your brothers? Answer me!"

"S-sir, I can't breathe."

"I don't give a mott's backside! You do _not_ leave your comrades. You should have noticed your tank was compromised. How do you handle such a situation?"

"Uh…"

"Get out of there, _now!_" ordered Monnk. The trooper obeyed without question and came up alongside the commander. Monnk whistled and the lights powered back on, abruptly stopping the simulator along with it. The clones broke the surface. Monnk gave another sharp whistle. "Hustle up, boys. Get out of there!"

There was a rush of feet before the troopers lined the deck, water pooling under them. Monnk glared menacingly at the squad.

"You are the lousiest troopers I've seen in my age-accelerated life span. You are thoughtless, careless, inattentive, brash, and lopsided loafs. You lack teamwork. You need to be a _squad_. As individuals, _you are_ crippled without your brothers. In the water, _you are_ slow and your movements are laggard. In the water, _you are_ vulnerable."

He cracked his knuckles. "If this wasn't simulation, the whole lot of you would be killed. Work together. Now try again! Dive, dive, dive!"

The scuba troopers splashed in to the water, forming a tight formation around the compromised clone while one of his brothers reattached the tube. Once finished, they kicked off and advanced, hiding behind cover and firing out at the enemy. Monnk nodded in approval as the timer counted down.

_Click…click…click…click…_

In seconds, the squad reached the end. The commander whistled and flashed a smile. "Endex."


	5. I'm Still Dreaming

_Thank you to the wonderful laloga and spikala for their reviews! To the rest of you - don't worry, you are still awesome. I realize this isn't __officially a canonical character, but I felt it to be fitting._

* * *

The twin suns were setting, so the boy was quick to finish up his chores before nightfall. He fed the dewback, collected the herbs, locked the outer doors from the house, and checked the proximity sensors status. He finally clambered inside, exhausted.

He washed his grimy hands free of dust and oil, and quickly stroked back his hair from his face. The boy, no older than fifteen at most, was a scrawny piece of scrap, and a slave for most of his life. Bought for a mere 100 credits. His master was nice enough. Silent, usually away in his private quarters for the whole day. The suns were a monstrosity he couldn't stand.

The boy laid out two plates on the table as he heard his master's slide door open. Nerf steaks, flavored with mild spice. The old man grunted, the chair groaning under his weight. The only noise as they ate was the clinking of utensils. When they were finished, the boy washed the flimsiplast plates and put them away. His master curled his finger for him to come closer.

"Why do you serve me?"

"I am your slave."

"You dare mock me, foolish child? What is stopping you from running away? You have no bounds on your hands, no shackles latched around your feet, your spirit unhindered."

"You own me for a price I cannot pay."

"And what is that price – credits? Foolish child, I do not own you. You fetch the water, you watch over the banthas, and you bring me food. I ask this of you and nothing more. I shelter you, I give you something to eat, and I provide you with clothing. After all I've given, you think of yourself as slave. Have I never said thank you?"

There was a grunt and a shuffling of feet. The young boy stared down at the sandstone floor in submission. He flinched as he felt the warm heat of breath near his face. There was silence in the dimly lit room. "Go to your room," his master softly nudged him and the boy complied, climbing up the stairs and out of sight.

The open window sent a cold draft through, making the boy shiver as he lay on the stone slab. He wrapped the blanket tightly around his small body to keep himself warm. The sky was starless and the primary moon, Ghomrassan, shined brightly.

He wondered.

The boy turned away from the light, still wondering. And dreaming.


	6. Plo

_Star Wars does not belong to me._

* * *

Jedi Master Plo Koon detached the blue-striped starfighter from the hyperdrive docking ring as it came to a halt out of hyperspace. He maneuvered the small fighter forward, inspecting the asteroid rocks that floated up ahead. R4-F5 his astromech droid beeped and whistled. The Jedi master acknowledged the small droid that was compartmented at the left side of the ship with a nod.

"Yes, we must." Plo said through his breathing mask, and then navigated the starfighter around the rocks that drifted lazily as he entered the asteroid belt. The area was naturally quiet as he swerved the fighter looking for evidence of the missing ships that had disappeared in the same sector. He squinted under his goggles as he saw pieces of floating metal further ahead, spinning slowly in all directions, skimming against the asteroids. He surged the starfighter forward with some thrust as he made his approach.

The fighter's electronic systems buzzed for a moment, and then the power was gone. The control panel blipped in and out of static as the fighter stopped. R4-F5 made a whistle and beep of worry. The Kel Dorian nodded grimly.

"Switching to emergency powers."

He flicked the switch, but nothing happened. He flipped it back and forth several times before he was convinced it was dead. He leaned back into the padded seat and uttered a deep breath. "R4, send a distress signal to any nearby Republic vessels."

The droid complied.

Plo sat there, contemplating all the recent events. He noticed the starfighter drift further into the field. He prayed by Force's name that help would arrive. Otherwise, he would be lost in the asteroids and starve a slow death. He reached into the Force, feeling the tendrils of it flow effortlessly. The Jedi master relaxed his shoulders, and meditated.

Like an ocean, space was constantly shifting, moving, lapping like waves against the hull. He couldn't hear it, but he could _feel_ it. Most people who were not attuned to such small vibrations and didn't take notice, but some did.

When he finally came out of his trance, the starfighter was in the _Resolute's_ hangar bay. The cockpit opened, and he jumped down. Commander Wolffe waited in parade rest and saluted. "General!"

Plo nodded in acknowledgment, "Commander."

"How was the trip, General?"

If Kel Dorians could smile, Plo would. "It was excellent. Thank you for asking, Commander."


	7. Wolffe

_This is for laloga :) I hope you gals enjoy it. This is my first time, err... writing this type of thing, so feedback is welcome!_

* * *

Commander Wolffe came back from his run, sweat beaded on his skin, and his breathing slightly heavy. He checked his chrono, and drank from his water bottle thirstily before tossing it away empty. His mind wandered to an ice-cold shower, but he blocked the thought out of his head. He had other things to do.

He stretched for several minutes, sucking in the cool fresh air. A group of women came strutting by, glancing oddly at him and his abs. He nodded in regard and greeted them, as the training regs had said. "Ladies."

They giggled, whispering in hushed tones, until they were out of sight of him. Wolffe looked on in puzzlement and shook his head.

"Civilians..."

Finally, he made it to the showers. He locked the stall door behind him then slipped out of his trousers, letting them hang on the rack. He set the shower setting on full blast, and the water lashed at his body. He grabbed the soap bar, scrubbing it over his chest. The white mixture slithered down his broad shoulders, firm biceps, abdomen and pelvis, and his legs and feet. His tense muscles glistened in the light.

Wolffe ran his fingers through his short hair, letting himself soak. He turned the knob and the shower ebbed out, buzzing for a few moments before completely shutting down. He wiped his eyes of water and reached for his towel, only to find it missing. "What the _kriffing_ hell?"

He growled, finding his trousers gone as well.

"I'm gonna kill them..."

He creaked the door open and peered out. Finding the area clear, he walked out. _Fek, it's drafty!_ Wolffe swore to himself, but stopped. The same assembly of women eariler stood to away his side, giggling hysterically. He unwisely turned, giving them full frontal coverage and making them babble all the more.

"Out of all the-"

"S-ir?"

Wolffe glared at the two clones that cautiously approached. "Boost, Sinker, escort these civilians off the compound. Now. And get me a _kriffing_ towel."


	8. Bo-Katan

_This is set after the episode _The Lawless_. If you have not seen it, read this at your own risk._

* * *

The body of Satine was laid on the pyre, her hands folded neatly together. Her blond, short cropped hair was tucked away, and her face still had the flush of pink. Even in death she was still the strong, firm believer of peace everyone had known her as. In many eyes, she was still the duchess. Bo-Katan didn't care what they thought.

Bo-Katan and her small band had managed to bring back the duchess's body, having retreated from the city and the desert wastelands.

She slipped off her helmet, holding in the nook of her arm, and grabbed the torch presented to her. She tossed it into the tinder.

The fire crackled and the wood burned as the pyre was engulfed in flames. The flames lashed out, desperate, while sparks drifted up in the air before being snuffed out. The sky was a black void, and with winter setting in, the air was cold. The forest enshrouded the beings and the camp like a blanket, and protected them.

All was silent still. Nobody spoke – only listened. With their helmets clipped to their belts, they sought the fire for its secrets. Each one of them stepped forward and scattered a handful of grain. The grains were used to make _Kri'gee, _and secretly had always been the duchess's favorite drink. Their voices slowly rose in a steady chant.

"_Motir... ca'tra nau tracinya..._

Those who stand before us light the night sky in flame.

_...Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a..._

Our vengeance burns brighter still.

..._Cuun hett su..."_

Burns brighter still.

She would continue to fight along side her brothers, and she would fight hard. For vengeance. For honor. For freedom. For Mandalore. She placed her helmet back on, vengeance blazing inside of her. For Satine.


	9. Our True Colors

_This is set after the episode "The Wrong Jedi". I do not own anything. This is unrelated to the Synchronicity theme, but was too short to make as a one-shot._

* * *

It was hard to believe it. None of them had predicted, nor foreseen, this outcome. Captain Rex, standing along with his two fellow officers, Fox and Wolffe, looked at each other solemnly. The rain had ceased, and now only the sleek layer of dew that covered the floors remained.

The buildings were bathed in sunlight, windows glimmering, reflecting back the light. On any usual day the captain would think it was a magnificent sight. But right now, everything about the suburban planet turned him off.

She was gone. He shifted, and his helmet faintly clinked against his thigh plate. Commander Fox gave a weary breath, while Wolffe stood there in silence.

They had been betrayed. The thought unsettled the captain; this was the second Jedi to succumb. How many more were there? A heavy throbbing alerted the three clones to the hovering larty at the base of the building.

Commander Cody, striped yellow armor scathed with recent scorches and blaster marks, trotted up the Senate stairs. "What's going on?"

A straightforward question that Rex didn't want to answer. The whole incident had been all over every news station, and then repeated for hours. Cody glanced at each of them, his eyebrows raised, concern evident.

Rumors spread through the GAR like wildfire, especially about Cody and Barriss Offee.

"What's going on? What has happened to Barriss?" he repeated himself, his body rigid.

So the rumors had been true. Rex felt another pang of guilt as he explained. By the end of it, Cody was motionless. "A traitor…" he mouthed quietly and clenched his fists, before shouldering past them.

* * *

Later at the barracks in his personal quarters, Rex was busily cleaning his plates. What else was he supposed to do? His mind was too disorganized; he had to focus on something. Anything. His armor now practically shined after the constant rubbing, and the small crevices of several deep scratches were somehow free of dirt.

He turned his helmet in his hands, feeling its grooves, its familiarity. The black visor was void and glared back at him. Rex felt lost, lost without _her_.

Everything they had been told, everything they had believed, everything they had trusted, was suddenly washed out. The line between friend and foe was just a haze. There was no right side.

The war had torn a gash through the Republic, and now civil unrest was at large. The longer the war went, the more damage that had been caused. The peacekeepers seemed no more. There was no more peace to protect. Their views changed over the years, and became distorted.

What were they fighting for? Democracy? Nobody knew what to think anymore. Neither did he.


End file.
